The Sun Shone Like A Jewel
by BugTongue
Summary: Whale Island is a peaceful place for rest and relaxation, if you're the type of person who knows how to relax, of course. The Rehabilitation of Kurapika Through Familial Bonds, or, Kurapika Freecs


_You'd say don't hate the sea from the shore_

 _The ocean was here long before the land_

 _Take my hand_

Time crawled and lurched, dragging him along despite the way his body ached and his skin felt fit to burn right off, or freeze off, it didn't want to make a decision on that. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face further into the cushions of the couch, his feet hanging over the edge as if he planned to get back up shortly.

He had been cleaning the house, sweeping the front room and moving on to fixing the leg of the coffee table when his heartbeat started rabbiting, forcing him to lay down until he could feasibly get back to work. No one here expected it from him, but if he was staying here indefinitely then he wanted to feel like he deserved it in any way.

The withdrawals were a real kink in that plan.

He turned when he felt Gon enter the room, looking over his shoulder before bringing a hand up to push his hair off his sweaty face. "Are you sick?" Gon had grown some, lost a bit of muscle but gained a few inches of height, back to being a growing boy instead of a small war machine. Right now he looked a bit like he was seeing a ghost, worrying about someone's health being relatively new to him.

"In a way, yes. I just needed to lay down for a moment, but I'm alright." Kurapika pulled himself up so he was sitting and closed his eyes against the migraine resettling in his skull to match the new position.

Gon was quiet, staying in the doorway staring for a moment before walking in and sitting beside Kurapika. They didn't touch. "Are you sure?"

"... What's bothering you, Gon? I don't know a whole lot about what happened in NGL but You weren't this worried about me in Yorknew, did something happen."

Gon paled, mouth cramping into a determined smile as he looked at the hammer and nails on the coffee table. "My friend died. It's so different from this, really, but I think I'm scared anyway."

"I'm not dying, I promise. Actually this is part of me getting better, remember how I was when I got here?" At Gon's nod he continued. "That wasn't good, trying to work that hard the way I was doing it might have been killing me a little bit. This is better."

Gon took his clammy hand in a smaller, warmer clammy hand, and nodded again, sighing. "Please don't be mad if I still get worried." When Kurapika gently pulled him into a hug, Gon held on tight enough to make his shirt creak with strain. "I didn't really get that people could just die. Anyone can die. That's so weird, but I knew that, in my head, but my heart still doesn't get it."

Kurapika rain his fingers through rigidly gelled hair until his friend calmed down. "Death is hard, but it's not scary. It doesn't have to be at least. But it's so hard, and you're so young, you don't have to get it right now. You just need to focus on living and learning what that means, everything else can come later." Gon pulled away and looked him over.

"I know why you did it. All of it. I get that." Kurapika frowned. "But we don't have to talk about that. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go with me to visit Aunt Mito at work, actually."

"Maybe next time, I'm almost done in here but I don't think the walk to town is a good idea right now." He brushed his hair back again and considered a hair tie, but let it all hang back down when he realized those were in the guest room. Gon smiled at him.

"That's okay, I'll tell her you said hi!" The smile was infectious.

The river was clean and swift here, strong enough a current that he didn't like the idea of falling in, but he followed Gon along the game trail through the lush forest. Large rubbery leaves batted him and thick roots threatened to ensnare his legs, but he grew up in a place like this and his body moved with the soundless thrum of the area so he stayed on his feet just fine. Gon looked back at him, fishing pole in hand over his shoulder. "Almost there!"

Kurapika readjusted the grip on his own pole as sweat dampened his clothes. They came out to a steep cliff that dropped down into a calm pool, the currents getting trapped in an arrangement of rocks that looked man made, or at least assisted, and the way Gon was grinning at him only solidified that theory. "This is a nice fishing spot, they aren't likely to see you up here and there's nowhere for them to go anyway."

"Exactly! I found this place when I was little and looking for a swimming hole." He dropped the tackle box on the ground and crouched to pick around in it for the right lure. "I've been pulled down a few times, but it's not really that dangerous for either of us." He paused. "Or, I guess it could be, since I can't... But it'll be fine!"

Kurapika knelt down with him and set up his own hook to look appetizing to the local fishes. "If you fall I'll catch you." He smiled when Gon glanced at him, and soon they were casting over the rocky ledge. The dirt here was dark and volcanic, heated by the sun so that it turned his skin red where it touched him, and he closed his eyes to feel the breeze off the river. One breath, two, and he was far away from Whale Island, far away from reality. Kurapika was back in the Lusko forests, the river only a few feet below, and the presence beside him was an inverted set of colors. When the line bounced he opened his eyes, banishing the memory in order to set the hook and begin pulling up his catch.

"Ohh! That's one of my favorites, look at it's blue scales, they're actually made of some kind of metal!" Gon excitedly bounced where he sat as Kurapika looked the fish over. "It's edible, but you gotta use the thicker knife to fillet it."

Kurapika got to it quietly, hands dutiful but his mind elsewhere. The island was peaceful, beautiful, and most of its inhabitants were focused around the coast. This forest was wild, wilder than his home had been, older perhaps. "Shit-" he stuck his finger in his mouth to stop the bleeding, his eyes on the knife. When he glanced at Gon, he saw that he was being watched by unreadable brown eyes. When the bleeding stopped he finished his task and set the fish in the cooler he'd brought along, settling in to cast down again.

"What are you thinking about?" Gon looked down into the water as they sat, focused on both tasks.

"... What my home was like."

"You miss it a lot."

"I'm glad to be here, but yes. I never stop missing it."

Gon tilted his head. "This can be your home now, y'know. If you want it to be." He didn't seem to mind when Kurapika refrained from answering, eyes on one shiny blue scale stuck to his pant leg.

While Mito worked in town hauling fish from the boats, cutting and cleaning them to be sold, Abe took care of household chores, as well as bills and occasionally grocery shopping. She couldn't walk into town every day, just like she couldn't do some of the more strenuous household tasks that now waited for Mito to come handle. When Gon was home he helped, but he so often ran into the woods, sometimes for days at a time, making it difficult to give him any set duties. Kurapika, then, solved a lot of problems. He was used to much worse than their family bills and occasional repairs, even if he was quiet.

Abe decided she liked him, despite the chill up her spin he often gave her. There was no violence in his hands or too cruel a word from his tongue, but he was like some of Ging's friends, even closer to home he gave the feel of some of the shadier figures at the docks. But he was sweet. And he was actively helpful, and Gon seemed to trust him completely. He was a child, but he had a good gut feel and listened to it like she'd told him to. So it was strange, but not shocking, when Thursday came with a visitor.

Gon had finished three day's worth of homework, and had run off down the slope towards the river with his backpack and fishing pole, easily assumed to be away for the next week, and Mito was at work as usual, possibly even staying late if the haul was good enough and the crowds willing to buy. Abe answered the door after setting down her work, and greeted a man at the door with a shock of pink hair and rather fabulous clothes. His voice was an oil slick.

"Hello to you as well, I was wondering if Gon was home actually." His hazel eyes were bright enough to glow from the way the sun reflected off of them, and the feeling he gave her was even worse than Kurapika's. One of Gon's friends it seemed, although she knew Ging well enough to know this could well be the opposite.

"He won't be back for some time, but you can leave him a message." She smiled up at him, relaxed but wary. "What's your name?"

"Hisoka, get lost." The appearance of Kurapika behind her startled her enough to put a hand over her heart, which didn't go unnoticed. "I'm sorry Abe, but please get away from him." Kurapika gave her an apologetic look as he reached out to grip the side of the door for her.

She stepped to the side, but didn't leave them alone. The smile on Hisoka's face unnerved her and by now she felt protective of Kurapika, not to mention she'd like to know what business he had with Gon. Hisoka leaned into Kurapika's space and through the threshold enough to truly impose, eyes narrowed with clear delight. "I wouldn't hurt a little old lady who had nothing to do with me, would I?"

"Now you hold your tongue and don't lie, I know well enough, there's no need to pretend." Abe set her jaw and put her hands on her hips. "Tell me what it is you wanted to say."

The delight dropped but the smile didn't. "Of course, I've seen the family reunion, you must have seen a few Hunters before. Hmmm I wonder if Ging's granny might want to play too-" he grabbed Kurapika's wrist to stop its momentum of the fist thrown, but allowed the opposite elbow to slam into his stomach, a giggle slipping out. "Kidding, kidding~"

Only when Kurapika stepped back to let Hisoka into the house, eyes wary and sharp, did the man explain himself. "I just came by to see if the rumors about Gon's Nen abilities were true, and if so to offer my help." He sat down on a couch in the front room, his gaze drifting between Kurapika and Abe. Abe's brow creased.

"Nen? He's been just fine, a little sad maybe but he's young, he'll bounce back."

"He means that Gon can't do some of the things he trained for while he was away." Kurapika stood by the chair Abe chose to sit in across the coffee table from their uninvited guest, restless. "No one needs your help, Hisoka. You'll stay away from Gon regardless of your intentions or I'll be sure to make you regret it."

Hisoka laughed. "That's cute, really, but what you say has nothing to do with what I actually do." His confidence made Kurapika clench his jaw. "Besides the fact that you couldn't kill me if you tried, I always have information you don't. Be a shame to lose out on an update about the Phantom Troupe, no?" His smile stretched into a grin at the harsh change in Kurapika's demeanor.

"And do you have anything of interest or should I drag you out of the house now before you bore me?" He crossed his arms to keep from swinging at Hisoka, officially oblivious to everything but the man within his tunneled vision.

"Mmmh, that's a nice look on your face, I think you might actually try it. All you really need to know is they're working together again. Well, the ones I haven't killed yet. They're in a bit of a tizzy." Hisoka's expression bordered on rapturous for a moment as Kurapika slid a shaking hand through his bangs, pushing them out of the way.

"And you came here. You did all that and came here. Get the fuck out of this house." Hisoka's eyes lit up gleefully as Kurapika lurched forward, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling all two hundred some odd pounds of murderous trickster over the coffee table, flipping it along with the various knick-knacks that had covered its surface. One clawed hand grabbed his face and bent him forcefully until he let go, and Kurapika was shoved to the ground. He bounced up ready to continue fighting, but Hisoka was already sauntering out the door, waving his fingers behind him in farewell.

Abe swam into his vision, and he forced himself to pay attention to what she was saying. Breathe, one breath, let it out, that's it. "Let's clean this up, alright? Come back down now, you made him leave."

He did, Hisoka was gone and, perhaps, the troupe would have no interest in coming here once they saw him pop up elsewhere. The idea that they still might sank into his bones regardless.

When Mito came home it was to a clean house and the smell of dinner cooking, Abe and Kurapika working in the kitchen on something that smelled like their backyard garden and something Gon caught last week. Her shoulders ached and her clothes were stiff with sweat, but she still peeked into the kitchen to watch for a moment.

Kurapika glanced at her sharply, noticing the movement, but relaxed again shortly afterward. "Come taste test, it's stew." He held the wooden spoon over the pot on the stove while Abe threw a pinch of something red into the rest.

The way they worked around each other was natural even after such a short period of time, Mito couldn't help but smile as she walked in to taste the fruits of their labor.

The night air was thick, heavy with moisture and windless. Nocturnal creatures sang out in the surrounding forest with deep whoops and echoing trills, the bugs uproarious with a clicking that was more of a physical thrum than a sound. Sweat trickled down Kurapika's face as he crouched on the back porch, eyes closed and hands tightly clasped together under his chin, his knees nearly even with his ears. He had woken up only twenty minutes ago from a nightmare, the phantom smell of greasy smoke and blood still tickling his senses.

He was, despite his better judgement, panicking.

The garden rustled with a short-lived puff of air that never reached him or his stoop, but which bounded across the yard into the treeline. He felt like he was going to be sick, and his heart refused to listen to reason and slow its pounding. The growing sensation of familiar/kind/good as Mito approached the back door did nothing to soothe him.

The door clinked and groaned as Mito pushed it open, slatted windows rattling against each other with the movement. She paused in the doorway, cool air rolling out and chilling the sweat on the back of Kurapika's neck.

"Well you're not stargazing, come on back inside before the mosquitoes smell your breath." Her voice stayed low, but it was a tone that invited no argument. It left him struggling between the desire to curl into a ball and catch flame, and wanting to show her the gratitude he owed her by doing as he's asked. He pushed his face into his clammy palms and pressed his lips tightly shut, breathing slow and even through his nose.

The door closed. Mito sat down beside him on the step and her cool, callused hand met his back, rubbing over the shirt in large circles until his breath grew shaky. When Mito opened her mouth to speak again, Kurapika beat her to it.

"I don't know if I can stand it here." His voice was uneven despite the clear effort he was making to control it.

"Why's that?"

"I don't want to lose this. Any of it. But I can't stop thinking, dreaming of it going up in smoke. It's terrifying to think I could find home only to find it gone again." He had to take a few quick breaths to calm himself after speaking, but he did speak. The explanations were new for him, Mito had been peeling back his shell of distance and apathy by sheer force of personality. It made him feel less like a stranger as well, to talk, difficult as it was.

"Well it's not going to burn down tonight, I've made sure of that. But you might die of blood loss if we stay out here too long, alright?" She gripped his shoulder tightly before letting go, and this time he did follow her back into the cool safety of the house.

The docks were swarmed with flies at the moment, someone had left their bait sitting too long in the sun and never came back for it, so Kurapika walked into town to get a non-fish related meal. His feet led him past Mito's table but she seemed to be on break, and with no reason to pause he found himself in a breezy but crowded cafe.

He thought the floral shirt might be a bit tacky, but it was a gift and it was better suited to the island heat than his usual full body coverings. There were enough bright colors and tourists around he didn't attract attention for it, which was a good thing, because when he looked up his heart jumped into his throat and he slowly covered his face up to the nose with a menu.

Across the street, milling about in broad daylight, were a couple members of the Phantom Troupe. The girl with glasses and the short swordsman looking out of place in nearly all black but casual as anyone else, and they were looking around, talking with each other. Kurapika clamped down on the rush of bloodlust only after the swordsman glanced over, but despite the staring no recognition crossed his features. The girl spoke, a few people walked through Kurapika's line of sight, and then the girl was alone and pulling out her phone.

Shit.

He stood up only to feel cold steel at his throat nudging him to plant himself once again. "Going somewhere, Chain Bastard?"

"I'll give you an hour to get off this island with no casualties, or I'll kill you. This is nonnegotiable." Kurapika glanced over his shoulder to see it was a dagger and not a sword held to his throat, something that wouldn't attract attention.

"Funny, don't think you make rules for us." The metal bit into the flesh and dragged back until blood welled to the surface and dripped into his collar. He ground his teeth, chains appearing along his knuckles, though he was wary about starting a fight here.

"Why are you here?"

"Hisoka, we will kill him."

"He's not here."

"He was." The knife moved further up, more under his jaw and he winced when the sun flashed brightly off the metal. "I don't like you, so play nice. Where is he?"

"Not here, but he was." Kurapika kept his eyes forward, and then caught sight of Mito just as she caught sight of him. Her expression stormed over and she started off towards them, still wearing an apron and gloves. Kurapika closed his eyes for the three seconds it took her to push her way into shouting range, and jammed his elbow into the swordsman, getting him somewhere to the side of his groin and wrapping his chains around the arm holding the knife.

They had attracted attention by now.

People in the cafe stood up from their seats to clear away and Mito had gotten closer, but paused, and then Kurapika noticed the fillet knife in her hand. Kurapika yanked on the hand with the knife as he sidestepped an attack from the other hand, knocking his chair over in the process.

The swordsman spoke. "Shame I don't trust you, can't be useful then die." Kurapika had to jump to avoid his sword, landing on top of the table but jumping off again as it was unbalanced by two of the legs being slashed off. He went over the swordsman and the moment he touched ground he dodged around him, letting out chain as he went. He just needed a proper loop to cancel his Nen and trap him. He had to fall backwards and nearly touch the ground to avoid the next swing, and then the swordsman dodged as something sailed past his face. That was the opening Kurapika needed to pull his chains tight and immobilize his foe. When he looked to the side he saw Mito's knife embedded in one of the supports of the cafe.

"Feitan, that's not Hisoka." The girl had come into view, expression somewhat mystified. "Are we supposed to be fighting other people too?"

"No, he annoys me." Kurapika tightened the chains just to make Feitan glare at him. "Hisoka's not here."

"Then let's keep looking, it's too hot here." She pushed the overly large glasses up her nose but they slid right back down, some of her hair was stuck to her face as well.

Kurapika released Feitan, and was glad to see the two of them actually leave without setting the place ablaze first. He bent down to start picking up the pieces of table and broken dishes he was responsible for, ignoring the way the tumult resumed around him as people worked out for themselves what had taken place. Mito came to his side to take hold of his shoulder until he looked at her. "Are you okay? You're bleeding."

"I'm alright, do you know who the owner of this place is? I think I owe them a new table." He smiled at her weakly, the tension in his body still high knowing the Troupe hadn't yet left the island. She brought her hand to his cheek and huffed, but returned the smile.

Soap bubbles were nudged into the air as the two of them sat in the laundry room and scrubbed the clothes down on a board. All the lights in the house were out, the air conditioners and fans silent as they waited for a repairman to come out, but there were still wet clothes that needed washing and Mito didn't want to wait and deal with mildew.

"We'll just do it ourselves, it's not that big of a problem."

Kurapika sat with her and wrung out a pair of pants that had once gotten fish blood and sea water on them, now scented with a harsh lavender that made his nose tickle. It was pleasant, a clean and gentle smell that he now had to scrub out of the fabric in another bucket. "You keep washboards in case of emergency like this or are they Abe's?"

Mito laughed. "They're Abe's, I'm surprised they're still in workable condition, but I suppose they used to build things to last back then." She wore a tank top due to the heat and being at home anyway, and a light over shirt left unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up three inches above the elbow, her hair short raked up into a bun with a large clip to hold it in place. She'd put Kurapika's hair in something similar, but it was falling loose and already too long to stay out of the soapy water.

"Is that why you use the clothesline instead of getting a dryer?" He pushed his loose hair back over his shoulder and rubbed bubbles off where they'd settled on his cheek.

"No, I just prefer the way the clothes feel when they dry that way. It's like they're lighter, somehow." She picked up her basket of wet clothes once Kurapika had finished rinsing the last pair of pants, and waited for him to follow her outside with his own basket.

With the grass whispering past his ankles and the breeze already pulling at his wet hair, he decided that things could be alright for him here. He could rest, and know that the world would be there when he opened his eyes again.


End file.
